


A Very Special Case (or, Valentine's Day.)

by coldairballoons



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, All the Wrong Questions - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Lemony Snicket's POV, Multi, POV First Person, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29440839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldairballoons/pseuds/coldairballoons
Summary: Lemony Snicket's "unusual education" didn't make room for holidays, such as Valentine's day. His associates are shocked, appalled, and plotting...
Relationships: All Of The Friendships. All Of Them., Beatrice Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket (implied/referenced), Ellington Feint/Moxie Mallahan, Jake Hix/Cleo Knight, Kellar Haines/Lemony Snicket
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	A Very Special Case (or, Valentine's Day.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Broken_Record_3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Record_3/gifts).



> I'm unable to celebrate good ol' Valentine's Day, but... doesn't mean I can't make fictional characters celebrate it for me. :)
> 
> Inspired by Broken_Record_3's amazing work in the ATWQ fandom!

“Snicket, you’re telling me you’ve never celebrated Valentine’s Day?” Moxie Mallahan’s eyes were as wide as the platters on the table between myself, our companions and her. “Have you never been sent a valentine? Do you have a sweetheart like Cleo and Jake? Do you even  _ want _ a sweetheart?”

I put my hand up to stop her, but Ellington Feint nudged me from the side. “Do you, Snicket? You can’t keep us in suspicion.” Suspicion, I knew, was a word that here meant something drawn out long enough to create a sense of dread in the heart of the listener, or, in my case, my associates, and as much as I wished to keep a sense of mystery about my past--some things were to secretive to tell--I had the feeling they would persist.

“My unusual education didn’t exactly make time for Valentine’s.” I said, and stirred my soup with the spoon. “So, no, I have not been sent nor sent a valentine. I… haven’t got a sweetheart, although I believe at some point I very much so would like to spend my life with someone.” 

“This has to change.” Kellar Haines piped up from where he sat next to Moxie. “This absolutely has to change.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” I sipped the soup--French Onion, courtesy of the best chef in Stain’d, and, as far as I was concerned, the world as I knew it, Jake Hix. “I don’t know how to…”

“We’ll take care of it.” Moxie insisted, reaching across me to poke Ellington’s shoulder. “Pass the fries?” Ellington dipped a french fry into ketchup and reached back across me. “Here.” Moxie opened her mouth, and Ellington fed the fry to her--sometimes, those two were so sickeningly obvious about their pining, it put Cleo and Jake to shame.

Jake leaned across the counter, resting his head on his hands. “So, Lemony, no sweetheart… have you ever had a crush on someone?”

Crush, I knew, was a word which here means not an overwhelming weight of something causing another something to crumple under its weight, but rather an overwhelming weight of something--a feeling, a romantic feeling… oh. I shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

That was a lie. There was a girl, one day, back in one of my classes. She gave me her pencil, and it was as perfectly sharpened as she was. Her dark hair was pulled back, her dark eyes bright and curious, and her smile as mischievous and intelligent and sharp as the knives she did a presentation on. 

Beatrice Baudelaire. 

But she was gone, working in the City alongside her chaperone, most likely. We hadn’t talked much, but I enjoyed her company. And it was her that I thought of as Jake took away my now-empty bowl. “Free of charge.”

I knew it was, but I didn’t say, instead nodding and thanking him. 

As my associates and I parted ways, I looked up to the inky sky of Stain’d-by-the-Sea. The clouds seemed to smile at me, and I smiled back. 

***

“Qwerty,” I asked, walking up to the librarian’s desk. “I’d like to send a request to the other branch, please.”

“A request?” Dashiell Qwerty poked his pointy haired head up from beneath the desk, the studs on his jacket seeming to shine in the dim light. “Of course, what’s the author and title?”

“Missing You, But Now. by I. M. Alone.” I said, and drummed my fingers on his desk. “I can’t remember where the author is from, though, which is sad. I enjoy that last name.”

There was a very special person that I wanted to send it to, and not Miss Baudelaire. She was in prison, I knew, but another very special person had offered to send a message for her. I missed them both dreadfully, but I knew that they were okay. They had friends in the city, and wouldn’t be weighed down by the pressures of a valentine. 

Still, I thought, I wish they were here.

***

Moxie’s hands covered my eyes as we walked into Hungry’s Diner. It had been snowing that morning, so my shoes were damp and the ground slightly crunchy as we scuffed our feet on the mat outside. “Is this what normally happens on Valentine’s Day?”

“Nope.” Moxie guided me to the left, then to the right, and I was partially sure that she was just trying to confuse me about my surroundings. “You, Snicket, are just a special case.”

“Special case”, I knew, was a term that described an exception to a certain tradition or rule. And as Moxie and, it sounded like, my other associates, counted down from 10, I definitely felt like a “special case”. 

“Three, two… one!” The hands were removed from over my eyes, and said eyes widened as I looked at the diner, which appeared to have been decorated in red, pink and white. There were tablecloths on all of the tables, which looked suspiciously like curtains I had seen driving through town. Milkshakes stood on the counters, all pink and white with cherries on the top of a dollop of whipped cream, and next to and behind them, there were cookies in the shape of hearts. Streamers hung down from the ceiling, and all of my associates had matching, shoddily sewn, but still matching, hats--the kind with fuzz on the inside, two flaps to cover the ears, which, on each side, donned a heart in white fabric. 

“You…” I couldn’t find words, and I tried for a moment before just shutting my mouth and shaking my head in awe. Then, a sudden realization came to me as I glanced at one of the tables, only to see a pile of various festive decorations, which, I realized, were valentines. “I… didn’t get you anything.”

As if on cue, Ellington tossed a hat to me, which I caught in defense. “Don’t worry about us, Lemony Snicket. Today,  _ you’re  _ going to experience the wonders of Valentine’s day.”

I gave a smile, looking around at my associates--my friends. “What first?”

Immediately, I was bombarded with answers--”Exchange valentines!” “Eat cookies!” --and laughed. “Okay, um… let’s… both at the same time?”

“Excellent choice, Snicket!” Moxie took my hat from my hands and put it on my head, smushing my hair down into my face. I tried to readjust it out of the way, but Kellar moved forward, and I didn’t have the chance before he was handing something to me and darting out of the way. I looked down to see a small letter, typed onto the envelope the words “Read later.”

I tried not to overthink what it could mean, if it was a secret or a mystery or someone was in trouble, but judging by the smile on his face as he turned back to Pip and Squeak Bellerophon, handing them each a small card, I figured it was nothing bad.

Moxie tossed me a collage, of sorts--old newspaper clippings, with the words scrambled to make a note on a notecard. “Lemons” “Snickering”, with the “s” in “Lemons” crossed into a sort of “y”. “Lemony Snicket,” the poem began. 

“I am:

**L** : Lucky that you are my friend

**E** : Ever so grateful that you came into my life

**M** : Moxie Mallahan (This piece was written out in red pen.)

**O** : Overwhelmingly happy to

**N** : (K)Now 

**Y** : You.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Lemony Snicket!”

Another card was tossed to me, this one from one Ellington Feint. I unfolded it with a confused smile, only to be met with a coffee-stained note.

“Lemony Snicket,

You’re a great friend. I would be lying if I said otherwise. I was alone for a long time, but then you fell (literally, out of a tree) into my life, and I’m glad you did. Even if you don’t like coffee.

Your friend,

Ellington Feint.”

I smiled at her, and she smiled back. Then, Ellington reached across me to tap Moxie’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”

I raised my eyebrows at Ellington, who raised them back in return. Was she actually going to act on the tension that all of my associates, save for the two in question, had noticed? Hopefully so, as the two made their way outside the door.

Jake and Cleo were being romantic as ever as I sat down, choosing one of the milkshakes displayed proudly on the counter. It was strawberry, as I found, taking a sip, and perfectly mixed together--I wouldn’t expect anything less from Jake Hix. 

The festivities went well into the night, ending with tables being pushed away in order for the cluster of us associates sitting on the floor in a circle to lay out a few blankets, quilts, the like, and play cards, or tell stories. Cleo told us the story of how she and Jake met, so long ago, and even I admitted it was adorable. Pip and Squeak told us a story about a mysterious delivery of flowers that they were in charge of, driving bouquet after bouquet from one side of the city to the next--the sender and receiver never named.

Finally, the chaos had died down, if one could insist this be called chaos, of course, and I noticed that Ellington and Moxie were finally coming back from their walk. Both of their faces were red from the cold, and Moxie, I noticed with a start, was wearing Ellington’s coat. Both were beaming, a smile like that on Ellington’s lips that only meant one thing--happiness. 

“So,” I said, turning to them. “How was the walk?”

Moxie spluttered something, and Ellington’s face, if possible, got even redder. “I-Uh, we- um.” It was then that the collective group seemed to notice the two of them, their hands intertwined, the coat with the wrong owner, and the room erupted once more into chaos. 

But Moxie turned to me with a smile like I’d never seen before, and I knew she was happy. 

***

Of course, my chaperone asked questions as I returned to our hotel room. “Why were you out so late? It’s frigid, a word which here means ‘it’s too cold for a child to be out’, what could have possibly been so important that you stay out in this?” S. Theodora Markson chided me, and I rolled my eyes, flopping into bed, the hat still upon my head. 

“What does the  _ S _ stand for?” I shot back in reply, and she let out a sigh.

“Serious colds are no laughing matter, Snicket, and as your chaperone, if you get sick, I have to take care of you.” Neither of us wanted that, so I gave her a thumbs-up, and rolled myself into the blankets. 

It was then that I remembered the letter in my pocket, and I pulled it out quickly, unfolding it. 

“Lemony,

Hello, it’s Kellar, although, if I gave this to you in person, you definitely know that. I’ve been thinking of how to give it to you, so it might be given in person, might not. I don’t know. 

What I want to say is this: I think I like you. I don’t know, not really, because I don’t think I’ve liked anyone before, but I like you. You’re smart, funny, but also brave. You give me courage, which is something I think I probably lack. 

(That’s a joke.)

I’m so happy to know you, and if you want to ignore this, please do. I won’t be mad, because I know how sometimes words aren’t what needs to be said. And besides, I would love to remain your friend and ignore this if that’s what you wish.

I’ll see you later, Lemony. 

Kellar.”

My eyes scanned over the paper again, and again, and again, until the words seemed to blur together on the page. He liked me? Kellar Haines liked  _ me _ ?!

Suddenly, things started to click into place. It was like a missing puzzle piece to the puzzle of one Kellar Haines, and I was  _ glad _ he told me.

And then, reevaluating, a word which here means “rethinking how I would approach a situation”, I realized that I might not have been truthful, even to myself, when Jake asked me if I’d ever had a crush. 

Beatrice Baudelaire was special. I knew that.

But maybe, just maybe… I reached to the nightstand to grab a notebook and a pen, before starting to write out my response. The light was dim, but I could see well enough… the only question now?

“How do I tell Kellar Haines that maybe, just maybe, I like him back?”

**Author's Note:**

> [jazz hands]
> 
> Please, please, please reach out to me on Tumblr at @coldairballoons, @locallemony or @bisexualwilliammurdoch! <3


End file.
